


The Prime of Mrs Jean Innocent

by Fictionwriter



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Community: lewis_challenge, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 11:25:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionwriter/pseuds/Fictionwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chief Superintendent Jean Innocent and bubbles</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prime of Mrs Jean Innocent

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt provided by  
> [ MistressKat ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/%20MistressKat%20/pseuds/%20MistressKat%20) who wanted a background piece about the Innocents and their relationship. Hope this is what you had in mind! Written for the Lewis_Challenge Valentine's Weekend Love Spectacular. Thanks again to [ Moth2fic ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/%20Moth2fic%20/pseuds/%20Moth2fic) for the beta.

Jean Innocent sighed and slipped deeper into the warm soapy bubbles, letting them drift up to her chin. A small bubble burst under her nose and she laughed with girlish delight, blowing into the foam to watch more of them rise then fall and settle again around her. It felt good, to float in this tub of self-indulgence, letting the hard edges of the day leach out piece by piece; tired muscles slowly relaxing, her favourite Vivaldi playing quietly in the background. 

She sighed again and closed her eyes.

“Hard day, dear?”

“You could say that,” she replied, slitting eyelids open to find a wine glass hovering inches from her nose. She edged up in the water and took the glass, sipping the sweet vintage. Her favourite. But of course he knew that.

She lifted her gaze to the man standing by the side of the bath. He was all sharp angles and comfort, with clear blue eyes and a full smile. At the moment he was contemplating her with a questioning look and a raised eyebrow.

“A rather nasty murder and too many suspects,” she told him as he settled onto his haunches next to the bath, long fingers delicate on the stem of his wine glass. “Of course the Chief Constable’s demanding results and my top team are being even more inscrutable than usual.” 

“Not terribly different from any other day, then.” He looked at her with a mixture of admiration and affection.

“I suppose not,” she agreed with wry acknowledgement, and took another sip of her wine. 

He picked the bottle out of the ice bucket strategically placed beside the tub and filled her glass again before tipping more into his own.

“You’re home early,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

“The last session cancelled on me so I came straight here.”

“Oh, I see.” Although she didn’t. Not completely. She was used to him taking care of things in the house, doing more than his fair share to keep the household running, if not like a well-oiled machined, then efficiently enough she could put the hours needed into the career she wanted. That didn’t mean he was at her beck and call. Bubble baths and wine, although welcome, were certainly not a usual expectation. In fact she seemed to remember the last time there had been some such extravagance had been after that rather disagreeable mess with one of his clients, the one with a fetish for men in uniform, and the Chief Constable. Having a husband who was a sex therapist brought its own particular brand of problems. Mind, it also had its advantages.

“You know I’m sorry I couldn’t make that recital, don’t you?” he said, breaking into her thoughts.

She felt another sigh coming on but suppressed it. One thing about her husband was his uncanny ability to sidestep unwanted social engagements.

“Is this,” she indicated the bubble bath and wine in one sweeping gesture of her free hand, “by way of making it up to me?”

“Since when do I need an excuse to spoil my wife?” He asked, all hurt indignation.

She didn’t answer, just looked at him with the same expression she used on her subordinates when they were trying to put one over on her.

He laughed. “Okay, it might be something like that,” he admitted, looking sheepish. 

“Hmm, I’ll let you off this time. Robbie Lewis made a perfectly adequate escort. He brushed up quite well in fact.” The expression on Robbie’s face when she’d told him he was to accompany her to a chamber music recital had been priceless, well worth enduring his deliberately gauche company at an event he didn’t want to attend.

Her husband wasn’t getting away with it that easy though. “I shall, however, expect your company, at my next Women’s Group function, headache or no headache. I can’t expect Robbie to take away the bare look all the time.”

“Of course,” he agreed with such alacrity that her suspicions were aroused again, but he turned away too quickly for her to catch his expression. By the time he turned back, towel in one hand, other held out to her in invitation, his face was a picture of bland innocence.

“Come, the bath water’s getting cold,” he said, pulling her to her feet and into the luxurious folds of the bath sheet. “There’s lasagne, cooked by my own fair hand, waiting patiently in the oven and another bottle of this excellent wine on the table. I want to romance my wife in style tonight.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him, “The children …”

“… are with their grandparents.”

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“I do try.” He leant forward, so close their breaths mingled. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Mrs Innocent.”

God yes, she’d forgotten the day, become lost in murder and duty.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mr Innocent,” she echoed against his lips.

The kiss was soft and gentle with the comfort of old familiarity that soon edged into the promise of passion. Jean leaned into it and counted her many blessings.


End file.
